A/N: Had some early inspiration for this one. ;o

Cold.

The air around them suddenly felt overbearing. Piers would have shuddered had he been able to feel, whereas Chris breathed out trails of fog. The older man should have been frozen over, but his body was already ice. It was haunting to see, and hurtful to be unable to do anything about it.

"I never left you, Chris. I don't-..." Piers paused as Chris lowered his gaze, he'd looked all across the cemetery but found no trace of another person to indicate what he'd felt. The expression over his features was enough to show the ace that Chris was at the brink of questioning his own sanity. "I don't want to." Piers finished with a deepened frown, utterly helpless to aid the older man.

Chris glanced over his shoulder to spare one last, longing look toward the stone. "I can't say things ever be the same, soldier. I'm sorry I couldn't bring you home." His world had long since crumbled away to ash the morning he'd been retrieved from the China waters alone. Every day was a new struggle, and it seemed only as though things continued to worsen. The Captain started a stride back toward his vehicle, and Piers was right behind him. The older man broke his pace a few times with slowed steps, where brown eyes roamed over some of the other graves nearby.

Finn, Andy, Carl, Ben. It had all started with them. Then there were others; Marco, Keaten, Jeff, Reid.

Death.

That was all that ever followed Chris Redfield, and his name should have been there with the rest.

The Captain had dived into battle many times and came out alive, but it was his men that had always paid the price. He wanted to give up, to turn tail and run from his tormented lifestyle. But it was that very same memory of all that he'd lost which would not allow him to do so, and thus he would carry on.

For his men, for humanity.

But mostly for Piers. His sacrifice would not be in vain, Chris would sooner die before he allowed that.

The Captain hurried past the last of the stones toward his car, he no longer wanted to be there with the graves that called out to him. He belonged under the ground with them, absent of the life he'd been gifted when theirs were taken so cruelly. He wasn't doing them any justice by standing over them, and yet he would always find himself there in that cemetery every day wishing for the impossible, wanting them all back, yearning to see brilliant hazel shimmer one last time.

Chris opened the door and sat inside, not at all concerned about his wet attire that drenched the seat with dripping water. Piers slid in alongside him, unsure what more he could say when he knew he could not be heard. Chris made no attempt to start the vehicle as he stared blankly out the front window that had been clouded over with the heavy rain. The silence was uncomfortable, it reminded Piers that he wasn't truly there or solid; he wasn't whole, and he hardly even existed. The sniper watched the older man, he felt the hurt that was so evidently radiating off of him in waves. Piers hated the helplessness, how he was so thoroughly trapped; able to see, but not able to be seen. He could shout and scream and cry and beg all he wanted, but Chris would never hear him again. It didn't matter that they sat barely a few small feet apart, whatever Piers was now... It was a torment to them both.

"I wanted to come back with you," Piers had to say something, even if he was the only one the words would ever reach. He needed to speak, to pretend just for a moment that he could be heard again. "I didn't... I never would have thought that things could turn out like this." More than anything, he wanted to be able to feel Chris. Hold him, touch him, just talk for one last time; if Piers was to fade away forever, then he could accept it as long as he was able to do something, anything, just to reach out to the older man. He needed Chris to know, needed him to understand why he did it. They both shared feelings that the other hadn't been aware of, and now they were denied the chance to act on them.

Piers leaned over in his seat so he was closer to his Captain, "Just don't give up. I don't want you to live like this." Soft, almost pleading in tone. Seeing Chris so lost and broken while unable to do anything to help, it was all painful. The older man was vulnerable, a trait Piers never thought he'd ever see in him, and the fact that it was caused by the sniper only made things that much worse. Piers could have torn out his own heart then smashed it to mush, and he'd have felt better about it than he did in that very moment.

Chris sighed next to him as he raked a hand through his damp hair and tousled the short strands into an unkempt mess, before he finally started the vehicle and both of his palms found the wheel again. The drive back was just as quiet as the one out there, but Chris headed down a different road half-way toward the base. It was clear in his expression that he had no intention of heading back there like he'd told Jill, and Piers hoped he didn't plan on doing something idiotic. The thought was quick to die off when they arrived at what he assumed was the Captain's house, the sniper had never actually been there before to confirm it. Not that he hadn't dreamed of Chris taking him to his home on many occasions in the past.

Chris wasted no time in getting back out of the car, and neither did Piers. The older man stopped at the stairs to the porch, in no rush to dive under the cover of his own roof and find a nice change of clothes. His head tipped back, brown eyes cast toward the sky as rivulets ran down his face to wash away all remnants of tears from earlier. The darkened skies flickered with lightning, and were it to strike him in that instance, Chris would feel no shame about dying in such a way. Thunder crackled, a powerful roar that rippled through the black clouds, all a perfect representation of his current mood.

The water was like the tears he so freely wept for his lost partner, a taste of his overwhelming sorrow for all that had left him. The lightning mimicked the electricity that cracked and popped along Piers' arm after he so willingly injected himself all to save Chris, who in no way deserved such unending loyalty. The thunder acted as his anger; the raging fires that burned within at himself and at that bitch Ada for all that she had taken away.

It was fitting for him to be there, under the pouring waters as the weather around him shared his pain. Chris could have drowned in it, were it possible.

Piers remained behind him, just as tormented as the older man. "Don't do this to yourself... Chris, please." It was killing him slowly to be stuck like that, to watch Chris as he suffered all because of a decision Piers had made to save him.

Chris didn't move, not until several minutes later when he finally relented to overexertion. It seemed like the troubles of his mind ate away at his stamina and drive, it made him weaker than when he was out on the field. Heavy footsteps carried him indoors, and he shrugged off his wet jacket to place it on a rack he passed by on his way to the living room. As a second thought, he paused to slip something out of the chest pocket and place it instead in one located in his pants before he proceeded onward; he didn't care that water dripped from the rest of his clothing down to the floor, he was practically dead on his feet already as he walked to the end of the room to take a turn down the hall toward his bedroom. The moment he was inside it, Chris collapsed onto the end of the mattress and removed his muddy boots. Socks followed immediately after, then his shirt. All of them were dropped to the floor in a careless heap with a pool of water forming beneath them.

Chris undid his belt and tossed it aside, before he climbed the rest of the way up the mattress toward the head board. His pants and skin were still soaked, but he couldn't find the willpower to do anything about it as he reached into a pocket to claim the very thing he'd taken from his jacket earlier. Piers slid on the bed beside him, still unsure how he even possessed the ability to do so. Hazel glanced toward the item Chris held in his hands, where a thumb roamed over the stitching. "...What did I do to you?" The ace couldn't help but wonder aloud as he immediately recognized the bloodied patch he had given Chris in his final moments.

A sudden ringing cut through the heavy silence, and both men winced at the sound. Chris reached back into his pocket for his phone and glanced at the screen; it was Jill, he should have expected as much. It rang again, and Chris contemplated on whether he should even bother to answer it. Upon the fifth ring, he finally hit the button to answer and placed the device to his ear. "I'm taking the rest of the day, Jill." He didn't hesitate to inform her of that, despite what he'd told her before.

"Chris, you said-"

"I know."

Chris heard a heavy exhale from the other end of the line, "Okay, I'll cover for you. I'm still here if you need to talk, you can't keep shutting everyone out." She meant well, she always did.

In his sorrow, Chris couldn't care less. The only thing that could ever set him back on his feet was long gone. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jill." He pulled the speaker from his ear and hung up just as Jill had started to say something else. He shut off the phone to avoid further bothering, and set it to the side on a small dresser out of the way.

Chris returned his attention to the patch in hand, wishing that he could feel the body it had once been connected to. Piers was gone, he knew there was nothing he could do to change that, but Chris was unable to let him go. Especially after what happened earlier that night; the feeling over his shoulder, it had all seemed so real even as he knew it couldn't have been.

Another roar of thunder rolled across the skies, and brown eyes lifted toward the window nearby. Chris almost missed being outside in that weather, it felt oddly comforting. Piers always liked the rain, before... Before everything went to hell. Chris wondered if he still would had he been there, considering all that had transpired in the underwater facility. Piers had never been one to let the hardships sway his view on things, however, so Chris wagered that the ace might have willingly stood out in the weather himself at that very moment, were he still alive. The pouring liquid would wet over his features and add a lovely glisten to olive skin. Normally spiked bangs that were almost never out of place would droop and fall over brilliant hazel, so sharp and attentive, so beautiful to look at. Those full, bow shaped lips would gain a slight curve, such a rare thing to see to from the young sniper, but it melted the Captain's heart every time he witnessed it.

Chris closed his eyes with the image captured in his mind. He would have given everything just to see Piers again, to tell him how he felt. He tilted his head back where it rested against the head board behind him. He was exhausted, but terrified to sleep for the images that haunted him were those of nightmares. Brown orbs fluttered, he knew he should try to stay awake but his body disagreed. Chris was slowly wearing himself down in his sorrow, and he could hardly prevent it as he started to doze.

Beside him, the sniper leaned in close with an outstretched hand. His fingers hovered inches away from lightly tanned features and paused there, as though afraid to make the attempt. "Chris..." He needed Piers, and Piers needed to reassure Chris... Somehow. The ace hesitated at first with slow movements that edged his hand toward his Captain's cheek.

Chris was at the brink of passing out, left to dwindle between the tides of being asleep and awake, where the world was close to fading and everything seemed surreal. He could have sworn he heard a familiar voice call out to him, perhaps the start of another dream.

Chris...

Piers. Why did it have to be Piers? He was so young, so talented. He had his entire life ahead of him and he gave it all up just to save Chris; to ensure that the battle scarred Captain made it out safely. Chris missed him, he longed for Piers more than he ever had anything else.

But then he felt it.

A light pressure against his face, a gentle caress.

He was positive it wasn't a dream, either.

Brown eyes shot open and Chris straightened himself to look around the room. It was empty, and he was just as alone as he had been ever since he left the base. It happened again, something strange. A touch from someone who wasn't there. It couldn't have been real, his mind had to have conjured it up; the human imagination was a powerful tool. Yet, he couldn't shake the odd feeling from the back of his mind that he wasn't actually alone.

Chris had to be losing his mind.

"You felt that again," It was stating the obvious, but Piers had been surprised by his actions for the second time that day. "I'm here, Chris! I'm right here!" He was closer now, within an arm's length of the older man as he pleaded with him. It was driving him crazy and it left him frustrated. Piers didn't know what else he could do.

Chris breathed hard and leaned forward to rest his head in his hands. It wasn't real, it couldn't be. It was a cruel joke his own sanity decided to play on him. Maybe Jill was right; he really did need help. "What the hell is going on?" He whispered to no one in particular as he sought to calm his nerves.

Piers frowned beside him, "Chris, please..." His hopes began to crumble more and more.

Chris, please...

The Captain clutched fistfuls of his own hair as his teeth clenched tight. "Stop it!" He shot up from the mattress and rushed over to throw open the door and nearly sprint down the length of the hall. Piers watched him leave, hazel wide and worried as Chris left his line of sight. Did he...? It wasn't supposed to be like that! Piers was trying to contact Chris, not drive him insane!

The sniper wasn't sure how long he sat there in a mixture of crushed hopes and regret, the fact that Chris could have potentially heard him did not seem as appealing as Piers had thought it would be. Not when his Captain was so sure that he was losing his own mind. It left a wave of guilt over the ace's shoulders, but he couldn't give up. Chris had to know.

Hazel lowered to the sheets, where they came to a rest on the bloodied patch that was his own. It had fallen away when Chris sprung into a sit, and there it was left as a constant reminder to the sniper of his unfortunate fate.